


A Fortress in Colorado

by Cottontail



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst and Humor, Crossover, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-02
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottontail/pseuds/Cottontail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The SGA team returns to Earth for rest and relaxation. A funeral leads to an invitation to spend time with the SG-1 team at General Landry's house. All in John's POV, much angst and soul searching about his life ensues, with some humor and McShep mixed in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fortress in Colorado

**Author's Note:**

> This was written around the time of SGA Season 3. My first SGA fic.  
> This fic was inspired by the film The Big Chill. Occasionally bits of dialogue are used from that film, though I did my best to make it all my own. It's strictly for entertainment and no money is made. None of the characters are mine.  
> Many thanks to nudaydreamer who did the Beta on this.

There’s a perfectly formed V of geese outlined against the crisp blue November sky. John watches them sail through the air, a distant honking formation. He’s been back on Earth just under three days and this is the first time he’s managed to step outside the SGC. His nerves are all on edge, something that isn’t easy to let go of. Sleep has been near impossible and rest and relaxation is just not happening. A few prescription drugs have been pushed on him by the SGC doctors but he’s been reluctant to take any… until just now.

“You’re late.” Lt. Colonel Mitchell stops to admire John’s rented Aston Martin sitting in the graveled parking lot. It’s silver and shiny and John loves it so much he wants to ship it to Atlantis and order Rodney to put wings on it.

The other man is in starched dress uniform, officer’s cap centered perfectly on his head. He likes the car too. John can tell by the way he’s gently smoothing a hand over her curves before he turns to John.

Mitchell has a practiced smile and perfectly even, white teeth. He’s all American. He and John have a distant relationship of mutual admiration which could easily become friendship if ever they were in the same galaxy at the same time long enough to nurture it.

Mitchell’s head cocks with a knowing smile. “Been reading your recent mission reports.”

John doesn’t know what to say to that. He hasn’t touched an SGC mission report in over a year, unless it relates to something Atlantis would need to know, which has been rare. “Good reading?” John asks.

Mitchell’s still smiling, like he has an inside joke that John isn’t privy to.

“Hey, some welcome home, huh?” He changes topic expertly. John joins him for a stroll across the graveled lot. They pass shiny, black government vehicles parked in perfect rows. “Ordered back for some rest and relaxation -Big Macs and Starbucks- and end up at a funeral.”

“Well, can’t say it’s happy times,” John returns. Mitchell’s shoes are highly polished. John’s sure the man is the sort who uses actual spit to shine them. He wishes suddenly he’d paid a bit more attention to the details of his own uniform. “Actually, to be honest, anyplace that isn’t in continuous, imminent threat of death and destruction is a great vacation spot in my book these days.”

Mitchell gives a small, humorless laugh of understanding. “I hear that.”

\--

John sits at the back of the church, rolling the stem of a white carnation between his fingers. No one really notices his entrance. Rodney, Weir and Teyla are all bunched together a few pews ahead of him. They don’t look complete without Ronon’s dreadlocks taking up airspace beside them. But this time around Ronon stayed back on Atlantis. John envies him.

Across the aisle is Lt. Col. Carter and a man he knows to be Teal’c. Up at the front is Dr. Jackson, whom he always remembers from that fateful day in Antarctica. He’s looking pale and blank and like he would prefer to be anyplace else right now. John knows the feeling well.

The church is packed with brass and enlisted alike. A few civilians are scattered in the crowd. And it is a crowd. John’s all too aware of how full the house is. His instinct is to glance around for all exits. This is just not something he ever used to do before Atlantis. He was never this paranoid in crowds. He knows that all of the Atlantis team is equally as uncomfortable in large populations now. There is an overwhelming urge to yell “SCATTER!” which he quells with the help of whatever Downer the good doctors pushed on him this morning.

A Chaplain is giving a small sermon and John hears the slow, melodic words but doesn’t process them. He’s too busy running through completely unnecessary escape routes. It can’t be helped. It’s ingrained.

He’s wishing suddenly he had come with the rest of his team instead of insisting on driving alone. Crowds are difficult but alone is equally testing.

Dr. Jackson is up at the podium, his words drifting over the congregation. John catches a few phrases; “Closer than brothers… held us together through every hardship and every dangerous mission… know he’s still watching over us all… loved him.”

Jackson isn’t talking any more. John looks up from the mutilated carnation in his hands to see Mitchell leading him away from the podium. A hushed silence is echoing in the church. Out of the corner of his eye, across the aisle, Carter’s head is bowed. The service is done and a few choir boys (obviously from some nearby military school) are providing an accompaniment to the slow procession outside.

The honor guard is seeing to the casket.

\--

“I just never imagined it this way.” Lt. Col. Carter is like a stowaway in his Aston Martin. Shadows play under her eyes and her hands grip tightly in the dark fabric of John’s coat, which she holds on her lap.

She didn’t ask to join him on the ride to the gravesite, just jumped into the car before he could react. It may have had something to do with the endless pats and hugs she seemed to be on the receiving end of outside the church. She looked at him as she closed the door and from there it was, “Yes, Ma’am, I can give you a ride.”

“So, you imagined it some other way?” John asks as he follows the slow crawl out of the parking lot.

“No… well… I mean I expected it to be on some mission. Not heart attack. Not natural causes. You know.” Her voice waivers only slightly.

“Yeah.” John turns on his headlights as the procession of sleek cars slide out of the drive and into the streets. He’s at the tail end of it all, breathing easier now that he’s out of the gentle push and shove of people. Clouds are rolling in and the sun is slowly disappearing.

Carter doesn’t seem to be in a talking mood and John’s silently grateful.

She holds up the small vial Becket stuffed in his pocket before he left the SGC this morning. Glances at him with a raised brow.

“That’s uh… “ How does he explain it’s a potent form of sedative one of the Atlantis teams managed to trade for on some mission or other? “That’s a foreign drug from another galaxy.” He gives her a smirking smile and she almost returns it, turning the bottle over in her hands. “You want some?”

\---

“Is Colonel Carter looking… zoned out to you?” Rodney says around a mouthful of quiche. They’re sitting half-way up on the stairway, inside General Landry’s large, sprawling country house.

“She seems fine to me.” John takes another swig of cold beer from the bottle at his side and steals a mini-quiche from Rodney’s plate. He’s feeling grounded now; the initial onset of panic and culture shock is just a buzz at the back of his head. Being able to keep the members of his team in line of sight feels like a balm to his frayed nerves. Or maybe it’s the drugs.

“Hey.” Rodney scowls at his plate then up at him. “Get your own.”

“I like yours.”

Rodney blinks at him, seems on the verge of response but closes his mouth, settling on a simple, “Huh.”

Elizabeth is on a plush couch, talking to General Landry, Jackson sitting nearby, listening. Beside the buffet table are Teyla, Vala and Teal’c, heads bowed together over a bowl of Chex-mix.

On the stereo is some soft music that John thinks might be a band he once loved a lot but whose name he can’t remember just now.

He gets up with a hand braced on Rodney’s shoulder, moves through the small groups of softly speaking people and makes his way outside to the balcony.

“He’s the one who told me to take it.” Carter is leaning against Mitchell. “My judgment was impaired. I wasn’t on my guard.”

“You don’t have to be on your guard with me.” John flashes his most charming smile. Deck lamps are turning on in the dusk.

The magic vial of Pegasus Galaxy sedative must really be working because she’s hugging him and asking him to please stay at General Landry’s for the weekend with the rest of the SG-1 team.

“Are you sure General Landry would want that?”

“Hell, he suggested it,” Cameron says, one hand still resting protectively on the back of Carter’s neck. She’s picking at some potato wedges on Cameron’s plate of food. “He’s really big on team bonding time.”

John had no plans set for this little Earth-side visit, so it’s not like he can claim otherwise. He looks back at Elizabeth, Rodney and Teyla in the main room. As if reading his mind Cameron says, “Dr. Weir already accepted on behalf of the rest of your team.”

John’s almost shocked, yet not. “Well… in that case.” He gives his usual crooked smile, “Where’s my room?”

\--

John’s set up in a room on the second floor, at the end of a hall, and he’s fairly certain it’s the bedroom reserved for the visits of a grandson. Small mobile airplanes hang from the ceiling. The walls are painted blue with fluffy clouds throughout. It reminds him of his own childhood room, when his mother was still around to try out the newest suggestions from her unending supply of home decorating magazines.

The bed is small, with wings. He considers curling up in it, just for the hell of it. Instead, he focuses on inflating the air mattress he’s been provided.

He’s just sitting beside it, watching the air-pump slowly inflate it when Cameron ducks his head in. “Hey, Shep! Want to go for a run?”

John blinks at him. Cameron's in his PT sweats. Its almost dark and bad things come out when it’s dark. “Are you insane?”

Mitchell laughs as he trots off down the hall. John hopes he has a well concealed weapon then remembers where he is. He's overreacting again.

"Hey." Rodney's standing in the room suddenly. When had he missed that entrance? "You get the cool aviation room? I didn't get a room with a motif." He looks put out.

"Well... you know. I fly things." John looks at the air mattress, wondering if it will explode if he leaves the pump on long enough. He imagines it flying around the room like a huge deflating balloon. Probably it would explode though. Rodney would like that. He loves explosions.

"I fly things," Rodney counters. And it's true. With careful teaching over the past year he's become one of the better pilots on Atlantis - Puddle Jumpers and even the occasionally captured Wraith Darts. But John's never let on how impressed he is. Rodney doesn't need any more fuel for his already high opinion of himself.

He sits down on the edge of the airplane bed and watches John unpack the few items he has from his night bag. "I think I heard Colonel Carter crying earlier. I was going to check on her but..." He trails off.

"Yeah well... she may be better off alone right now. Grieving and all that." He tosses a shaving kit on the bed. Rodney watches him closely. "What?"

"You're jittery. You don't like being here. The Milky Way, I mean."

It amuses John when Rodney refers to home as the Milky Way instead of Earth because it's so grandiose and that is so Rodney. But for John it just makes him think of a candy bar.

"I'm fine," he dodges. "Want to go downstairs?"

"You're not fine. You haven't slept in days." It’s not like Rodney to be interested in anyone else’s sleep. John studies him until the other man looks away.

"Have you slept?"

Rodney's lifts his chin slightly. "Well... no. But we aren't talking about me."

"Oookay... how about Teyla or Elizabeth? Have they slept?"

"Elizabeth takes a handful of sleeping pills every night."

John blinks. "Huh."

\--

Around 1:00 a.m. a clap of thunder and flash of lightning bring in a downpour of rain. John lays awake on the slowly deflating air mattress and listens to it patter against the windows. It almost lulls him into sleep until a particularly loud crash and flash crashes down on the house and he’s fighting with his reflexes not to duck and cover. The electric has been knocked out and you never really know how much white noise electrical appliances make at night until they are all suddenly silenced at once.

Slowly he hears the rest of the inhabitants of the house moving about. He hears Rodney’s familiar voice talking about breakers and fuses. A few minutes later it’s joined by Col. Carter’s and then Teal’c drones in with some small comment that makes the others’ go silent for a moment in obvious contemplation of whatever bit of wisdom he’s pronounced.

Then Cameron is up and commenting about how many astrophysicists it takes to change a fuse and John feels obligated to get up and join the crowd as they huddle around in the damp basement with flashlights and lavender scented candles someone found.

“I’m sorry, John. Did we wake you?” Elizabeth asks. She’s holding a flashlight on the breaker box while Sam and Rodney bicker over fuses.

“Oh, well, you know how I love unplanned chaos, Elizabeth.”

She smiles indulgently at him. Rodney is snipping at her to hold the flashlight higher.

“What’s going on?” Daniel wanders down the stairs, hair ruffled, yawning.

“The electricity went out.” Cameron points out the obvious. Daniel is blinking owlishly at them all.

No one comments on the oddity. A normal person would notice the alarm clock blinked off, roll over and go back to sleep, hoping they wake up to electricity in the morning.

“Just as well. I was having a nightmare,” Daniel comments, accepting a flickering candle from Teyla.

“Been there done that.” Rodney quips.

“Every night for the past three years,” John murmurs.

Daniel shivers a little beside him. “I don’t want to think about it.”

The gentle hum of electricity flickers back on and Sam is smiling at Rodney with something that looks slightly self-satisfied.

Rodney has nothing to say other than a simple scowl at the fuses in the open breaker box.

“I’m hungry,” Cameron announces.

\---

A small light flickers above the stove. John is half-way through an incredible peanut butter and jelly sandwich and the most wonderful, cold, glass of fresh milk he’s had since before he left for Atlantis.

Beside him Cameron is teasing Daniel about something Ori-related. John can’t follow it.

Rodney is leaning against the counter opposite, slowly devouring an equally incredible pb&j sandwich. John can’t stop admiring the way his entire attention is focused on it. Rodney only gets that focused on new magical Atlantis devices that he must deconstruct piece by piece. Or nuclear warheads. His eyes dart up from the sandwich and lock with John’s.

John almost looks away but something stops him. Rodney wasn’t focused on the sandwich at all. It was something else altogether. A mathematical problem or intricate physics puzzle in his head that John isn’t privy to. Lightning brightens the kitchen and in that instant Rodney’s eyes flash bright blue, then it’s dark again.

They are all silent, waiting for the thunder. It comes, four Mississippi’s later and John jumps at the loud crash, despite himself. Post traumatic stress is his friend.

“I was dreaming about Jack,” Daniel announces into the silence that follows. All eyes turn to him. “He was talking to me in Ancient but I couldn’t speak back to him. So… frustrating, you know? ” A mug of tea sits alone on the table before him. John doesn’t know what to say. How do you respond to that?

“I could give you something to help you sleep,” he offers, thinking of the entire pharmacy of pills stashed in the Aston Martin outside.

Daniel’s brows lift a bit but he shakes his head. “Uh, no… thanks.” He lifts the mug and drinks from it. John finishes his sandwich and listens to the steady fall of rain in the night. There’s a small, drip, drip, drip, someplace. Like water hitting against a tin planter outside the window.

“He was trying to explain to me about priorities and consequences… and….” Daniel laughs a bit, “Homer Simpson.”

There is a thoughtful sounding, “huh” from Rodney. John smiles and stares at his glass of milk.

“Priorities,” John repeats. “Sometimes I think there are none. It’s all just whatever giant, life-threatening issue catches your attention at the moment. There’s no tracking it. No end to it. I don’t think we have that luxury of picking which overwhelming threats take priority over the others and the consequences are usually just more life-threatening issues to deal with down the line.”

A moment of mutual understanding is shared among them.

“Well, no one said it would be a cake walk,” Mitchell says.

Rodney snorts, “No, it doesn’t matter how much cake you walk on.” John grins at the inside joke. Jackson and Mitchell exchange confused looks.

\---

He’s out running at 6:00 a.m. and he must be insane. Barely three hours sleep all night, a headache like a Wraith Dart screaming in his head, and he’s out running. John is realizing that Mitchell is overly energetic and slightly too optimistic. A few months in the Pegasus galaxy might iron that out of him.

“You need some new sweats, Sheppard.” Cameron points out the obvious. John is not actually accustomed to running in regulation PT sweats. He runs in t-shirt and BDU bottoms and he doesn’t remember when that became the norm for him. An actual sweat suit seems a luxury, like cold milk or driving a car at 80 plus miles an hour on the highway.

 

Everything is still soaked with the night’s rain. Pavement glistens under their shoes. “You’re shell shocked.” Cameron further states the obvious. “Your whole team,” they slow to a jog, passing a barking dog behind a fence and a field of wheat grass.

“I’m aware of that.” John wonders where this conversation is going. Because if Mitchell is intending to lecture him on the proper care and feeding of one’s team members John is planning to clock him one.

“I’m just saying, you need this time off. You can’t go back like this.”

John doesn’t answer. He feels his jaw tighten in annoyance. He slows to a brisk walk and Cameron slows a few feet ahead then falls back in with him.

“Hey, I know how it is. Shit happens and you’re fried for a solid month afterwards. Whatever. Just stick around, okay? Don’t go dodging back off to Atlantis the instant your leave is up. It’ll still be there for you no matter how long you have to stay here to deal with… whatever. And you know, if it isn’t still there, we have more than enough need for you in this galaxy too.”

John looks away at the passing scenery. He doesn’t feel up to explaining to Mitchell that Earth is no longer home and while they may all seem shell shocked they are also getting home-sick by the day.

Mitchell seems to sense his unease on the topic. They walk in silence for a few minutes.

“I think there was something going on with General O’Neill and Sam,” Cameron says then goes silent. John stares at him as they walk.

“And…?” he encourages.

“That’s all. I think they were, you know… involved.”

“Well you have to give me more than that, Mitchell.” John nudges him playfully with an elbow.

Light blue eyes fix on him. “I don’t know anything else. Besides, I feel weird enough just putting that out there. Gossip isn’t really my thing.”

John smirks at him. “You need an extended stay on Atlantis, Colonel Mitchell.”

\---

A quick shower and change of clothes and it’s real Italian coffee for breakfast down in the kitchen.

Lt. Col. Carter is gazing into the refrigerator. John can’t imagine what could be so interesting in there.

McKay wanders in looking half asleep. He reaches around Carter in an almost too close move and grabs the milk. John finds himself narrowing his eyes at them.

“Where is everyone?” Rodney asks.

“Col. Mitchell is upstairs. Daniel and Teal’c are out back with Vala and Dr. Weir.”

Rodney settles at the table with John and a bowl of Cheerios then notices the coffee pot. He looks conflicted; coffee or cereal? In the end the cereal wins out, which surprises John.

“What are you doing? Calculating the mold to cheese ratio in there or something?” Rodney asks Carter around a spoonful of cereal.

“General Landry needs more food stocked if we all intend to stay here the rest of the weekend.”

“We’re all staying? Even Elizabeth? I thought she had that guy who wanted to see her again.”

“She told me she decided not to go after all,” Carter answers.

“Oh…?”

“McKay? You do know gossip is counterproductive to pretty much everything?” Carter is jotting down food items on a little magnetic list stuck to the freezer door.

Rodney smirks. “Obviously you’ve never been cooped up in small community in a distant galaxy for years on end. Trust me, gossip makes the Universe expand.”

John ducks his head over his coffee and tries not to smile too obviously.

The headache is ebbing away.  
\---

Teal’c and Teyla have gone to the store with Col. Carter’s shopping list in hand. John thinks that might be an interesting thing to follow - two aliens in a grocery store - but he turns down the offer to join them.

Instead he finds himself in the back of a mini-van with Lt. Col. Carter and Vala on either side of him and Cameron and Rodney up front. He’s had just enough of those blue pills to be oblivious to the rush of traffic around them and the slightly irritating music on the stereo.

Cameron and Rodney are arguing up front about something. John is trying to understand what it’s about but can’t hear all the words. He catches, “genius” and “Mensa”, sees eyes glancing back at him in the rearview mirror and damn if they aren’t up there bickering about him. He tries to glare a hole into the back of Rodney’s head. The Mensa thing is not something he likes to put out there for everyone to know. He’s not hung up on it. He could have put in for the membership but he just never committed to finishing it.

Cameron is rolling his eyes at something Rodney has said and John hopes they have moved onto another topic. Perhaps he should have insisted Rodney take the back seat but he sort of enjoys watching McKay torment Col. Mitchell because the other man clearly doesn’t know how to handle Rodney McKay at full throttle and for some reason that just amuses the hell out of John.

“I slept with Jack a week before he died,” Sam announces and the van goes silent. John resists an intense urge to burst into fits of very undignified giggles. Maybe he should NOT have given her more of that magic Pegasus Galaxy vial. She’s oblivious to the stunned silence she’s created. “We just went for it. I mean, eleven years? It was getting ridiculous.”

Rodney clears his throat and Vala is looking around John to Carter, very interested in this news. “Really?” she says.

“I guess he had no end of life regrets, huh?” John smirks. Carter smiles at him and the rest of the trip is spent in companionable silence.

\---

There’s a small forest outside General O’Neill’s Colorado home. Carter is standing on the deck with him, Rodney is walking the perimeter with Cameron and Vala, all of them unmindful of the rain falling once more. Cameron is saying something about the grass and John smiles when Rodney takes an obviously concerned look at the ground and begins to walk as if mines may be lying beneath their feet.

Carter opens the front door and they enter the darkened rooms together. It’s an instantly homey feeling in there and John stops in the entrance to admire it. White walls and mahogany-trimmed windows and doorways. The air is slightly stale and Carter proceeds to open a few windows. The clean scent of rain blows through the rooms causing curtains to billow.

Carter is smiling at him from the center room, standing beside the empty fireplace. He’s impressed and it must show on his face. “This place is… so cool.”

“He liked it.” She’s staying in that one spot, watching John walk around the rooms. He’s reluctant to touch anything. It’s like a memorial site that shouldn’t be disrupted. Framed ribbons and medals, certificates of achievement line the walls. An entire lifetime of bravery and accomplishments that only a few will ever really appreciate. A shame it all has to be packed up and disposed of now. Carter said he left the place to his ex-wife and she has no reason for keeping it. Perhaps the Air Force could buy it out from her.

There are framed pictures of various fighter and cargo planes lining the walls in the hallway, F-15E Strike Eagles, F-22 Raptors, F-117 Nighthawks, C-17’s, A-10 Thunderbolts. Names he should have forgotten by now run through his head as he passes each framed image. Strange the things your brain decides to hold onto.

Carter has turned a lamp on in the main room and the warm light filters into the hall. “You remind me of him.”

John freezes, eyes fixed on the picture of a C-141C Starlifter taking off from a base. For reasons he can’t identify, a chill runs up his spine.

Jack O’Neill is the reason he’s spent the last three years alternately fighting for and clinging to life with some of the finest people he’s ever known. Family he never expected to have again. But he’s also the reason John’s been fighting life-sucking aliens in another galaxy for the past three years. He’s the reason John isn’t currently living a quiet life someplace in Hawaii. He’s the reason John is dealing with shell-shock, insomnia, post traumatic stress and any number of other near-death-trauma induced disorders. Yet he can’t imagine not having known those experiences either.

He looks at Samantha Carter who seems very alone at the other end of the hallway, hands in pockets, watching him. She obviously loved this man, as did Dr. Jackson and Teal’c.

“He turned my life into a nightmare and I don’t think I forgive him,” John tells her. She continues to stare at him.

“You will.” She smiles slightly, so certain of herself it sends a spike of irritation through John.

\---

“Why do you have to analyze every damned thing?” Cameron is glaring at Rodney across the table as the rest of the group places serving dishes on the large kitchen table. Baked chicken, green beans and corn, baked potatoes, fresh salad and rolls.

Teyla’s eyes are large as each new dish is placed on the table. She’s in culture shock. So much excess is clearly making her uneasy. John places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She told him earlier that her trip to the grocery store with Teal’c was “impressive to say the least.”

Rodney is trying to explain to Cameron about the difference between an analytical mind and an emotional one. “Everyone analyzes things; it’s just that some of us do it better than others.”

“And some of us don’t feel a need to put out there every single thought that passes through our head,” Mitchell counters.

“You know how much smoother things would run if you did? Think about it, if everyone put out there exactly what they were really thinking there would be no need for second-guessing and misconstruing of original intentions.”

Cameron is clenching his jaw and looking for support from anyone. Unfortunately, he isn’t getting it from anyone on the Atlantis team. They are all too familiar with Rodney’s arguments to bother stepping into it.

“I think you’re trying to rationalize your obnoxious personality.” Cameron comes right out with it.

Rodney doesn’t even blink at the insult. “I’m not rationalizing a thing. I know I’m obnoxious. Every person at this table knows it. Yet, I’m still one of the most important people in two galaxies.”

There are a few snorts of amusement as food is served and passed around. “We are all important in our own ways.” Teyla attempts to smooth over.

“But Rodney is the most important,” John says. All eyes turn to him.

Crap. Did he just say that out loud?

“You see that? Thinking out loud, it’s a good thing.” Rodney has a self-satisfied grin on his face as he looks to John.

\---

The kitchen is like a battle zone after dinner. Being unfamiliar with kitchen duty they all attempt to clean it up but only succeed in making the whole process more complicated than necessary.

“Dish washer?” Teyla is looking nervously at the appliance as Elizabeth dumps in some soap and turns some knobs. It hums to life.

“I know, we’re the most spoiled culture in the world,” Elizabeth is saying.

“Spoiled or advanced?” Rodney asks.

John tosses a dish towel on the counter and sits at the table. Relaxed and satiated, from the meal and wine, the group lounges about the darkened room.

“He should be here.” Daniel, sitting at the end of the table with Vala beside him. Shadows flicker across the walls from the dancing flames of candles set around the kitchen. “It doesn’t feel right that we are all here and he isn’t… then again, he hasn’t really been with us in years. But…”

“He’s here, somewhere right? I mean, you know better than any of us. You’ve been dead before… several times,” Mitchell says with concerned interest.

Daniel gives a small smile. He’s slowly tearing up a napkin before him on the table. He focuses on that once more, not looking at anyone else. “I don’t know… maybe he is.”

“I know how you feel, Daniel.” Carter speaks up from her place on the window seat in the small breakfast niche. “It’s like a limb is missing.”

“You were all very close for so long. It makes perfect sense that you feel the loss very acutely.” Elizabeth attempts to comfort. John tries not to roll his eyes. It’s all so predictable. Next someone will say they wish they had said some very important thing they had always wanted to convey to O’Neill before he up and died so out of the blue.

“I too feel a great loss.” Teal’c speaks up. John looks at him. It’s not often that Teal’c speaks and when he does John finds himself very interested in what will come out of his mouth. He is gazing at one of the candles, hands crossed on the table before him. “However, I find a great comfort in this gathering and I feel certain that new bonds are being formed here.”

John snorts. He can’t help it. This is so much emotional psycho babble that he wants to throw ice water on them all or something. Wake them up to reality.

“Hey, guess what! People die of heart attacks and then relatives and friends go to their funerals and spend the following days eating great food, talking to each other about how fucked up life is and then you die. Welcome to reality, folks!” He reaches for the nearest glass of wine and downs the last of it. “Is there cake? I saw cake.”

Instead of shock or outrage he gets looks of amusement. And one raised eyebrow from Teal’c. “You are right, Colonel Carter. He is very like O’Neill.”

Elizabeth is giving him the disapproving school teacher look.

 

“What? I like cake.”

“Cake sounds good,” Rodney agrees.

\---

There are three aliens flipping through channels on the floor before the big screen television. On the couch John sits between Daniel, Rodney and Elizabeth watching the channels flash by. An old rerun of Frasier, the shopping channel with jewelry by Paula Abdul, a local community channel with a large pasty-faced, glazed eyed man discussing the latest in Hemp News which leads to a very interesting discussion amongst Teal’c, Vala and Teyla about the Earth plant called Hemp.

Of course none of the Earth natives on the couch chime in with any assistance on the subject. The scene is entertaining enough. The channel is turned again, this time to C-Span2 and then all the CNN channels are quickly flipped through.

“Christ, is Armageddon really about to hit?” Rodney murmurs softly; the news is certainly more dire than John remembers it being three years previous.

Daniel gives a small, tired yawn. “Well… if the Ori don’t bring it on, humanity is ready to finish the job themselves. Lately I sometimes wonder why we even keep fighting to save it.”

“If they had a clue what was really out there all the death and destruction on this planet would be seen for the petty stupidity it all is,” Elizabeth agrees.

Rodney yawns largely, head lolling on the back of the couch. “I’m tired. It’s only 8:30. Fucking Atlantis time change.”

“Sleep. Lucky you,” John returns. How much would he give to be genuinely exhausted enough to be able to fall asleep?

“I don’t want to sleep.” He’s almost whining but not quite. John glances over. Dark circles are under his eyes; he looks vaguely uneasy.

“Nightmares?” John asks.

No answer other than a small look of affirmation.

“I might have something to help with that,” Daniel offers. He stands with a gesture for Rodney to follow.

“Oh…?” Rodney follows, like a lamb to the slaughter. Didn’t he say those same words to Daniel last night? He must have a stash of pharmaceuticals someplace too. John is too full of cake and alcohol to question Rodney’s blind acceptance of whatever Dr. Jackson may have for him. Though honestly, ever since that whole Wraith enzyme incident Rodney hasn’t been quite so drug-phobic.

\---

Teal’c is passed out in a mountain of pillows on the floor. Elizabeth is curled on the other end of the couch. Teyla sits with her back resting against his legs, eyes still fixed on the muted television - WWF wrestling.

The rest of the house sleeps.

“They think we’re burnt out.” John tells them what Mitchell said during the run this morning.

“I think they should look in a mirror,” Elizabeth quips and takes another sip of the Sleepy Time tea she’s made. It’s a completely useless tea because John is anything but sleepy and he’s had three cups already. Elizabeth tells him it’s the idea that it could possibly make someone sleepy at some point that counts.

“John…” She sets her mug down on the coffee table. “I think he’s right, though. You, particularly, have not been yourself since we arrived back on Earth.” She doesn’t out and out ask him what is wrong, which he appreciates.

“I’m fine. You know me. Not good with social skills.” Teyla gives a small laugh, her head rolling back against his legs.

Elizabeth lifts a brow at him with her _‘I know you’re not telling the whole truth but I won’t push it’_ look.

Commercials flash on the television and the room flickers with the lights. He could go to bed now but something is holding him here - maybe the familiarity of Elizabeth and Teyla.

“I think you are lonely,” Teyla says. She’s a mind reader. John is certain of it. That ability to be telepathic with the Wraith must have some other tricks that go along with it.

“I’m…” He wants to deny but it would sound childish to do so. “Okay… maybe a _little_. But I have you guys and I’m fine, really.”

Minutes pass with nothing but the sound of the clock ticking and the soft bubbling hum of the fish aquarium on the other side of the room.

“I think that Colonel Carter has been trying to tell you something and you have been ignoring it.” Elizabeth says.

“What?” This genuinely puzzles him. “She says I’m like General O’Neill. What is she trying to tell me? I need to get promoted?”

Teyla sighs and Elizabeth gives him a weary smile. “Actually, I think it has something more to do with knowing what you want and waiting until it’s too late before going after it.” She sets her mug back down on the table and stands, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Good night, John.”

He stares at her retreating form. What the hell? What does he want?

“What did that mean?” he asks Teyla but she is looking up at him with a soft smile - that smile women get when they know things that men don’t know. Eventually all women give him that smile and it’s damned annoying.

“I think you do know what she means and I think you might be happier if you just accept.”

She too stands and leaves the room with no further words.

He attempts to turn the TV off with a thought, remembers he’s not on Atlantis and searches for the remote instead. It turns out to be someplace under Teal’c and John thinks it would be safer to leave it on.

\---  
“Are you insane? You’re sleeping?” Rodney has invaded his room. He’s stretched on the floor next to John’s air mattress.

“I’m not sleeping. Obviously.” He tosses a pillow to Rodney. “What did Jackson do to you?”

“There's this incredible drink called Red Bull. I’ve never had one before tonight. Obviously we MUST have this drink available on Atlantis. Do you think the SGC would stock a shipment for us? This stuff is incredible. I’m WIDE awake. You want some? Because I could go back to my room and get the other can I left in there. You would not believe how much it wakes you up! Better than coffee and I never thought I would ever say anything is better than coffee, my friend. Not even sex is better than coffee. You have to try this stuff!”

“Did you just say coffee is better than sex?” John stares up at the ceiling, little airplane mobiles floating gently in the breeze from the slightly open window.

“What? No, no, no. I said not even sex is better than coffee.”

“Yeah.”

“What?”

Clearly Rodney is up for the next 8 hours and even though John is vaguely sleepy, and might have gotten at least a few hours of dreamless time tonight, he’s almost content to spend the night with a wide-awake, sugar-caffeinated, hyper McKay instead.

“Elizabeth gave me some Sleepy Time tea. Maybe you should try that before bedtime instead.”

“Why?” Rodney’s crawling up to stretch out on the mattress beside him. He smiles at John. “Let’s go to the store tomorrow and buy bags full of chocolate. Radek made me promise to get chocolate. Snickers, Hersheys, Reese’s, you know…. This mattress is kind of crappy. This is going to kill my back.” John listens to the rain begin to softly patter against the windows and the plants outside. Maybe they should close the window but he’s suddenly very tired and relaxed and Rodney’s urgently whispering in the dark about chocolate again and Atlantis and something about "Energy equals milk chocolate squared”.

John’s lulled into sleep before he realizes it.

\---

That morning he runs with Mitchell and Teal’c who spend half the run discussing current movies and the other half interrogating John about the Wraith.

Upon their return, the rest of the house is starting to wake up.

Vala is in the kitchen examining a new SGC uniform coat that has been left by General Landry. One for each of them in clear plastic bags, names scrawled out on each. General Landry has been like a secret Santa Clause these past days. He slips in at odd hours when no one sees then takes off again, presumably for the SGC where his presence is always needed.

The coats are nice, leather with SGC insignia on the lapels.

“So you just fell asleep?” Elizabeth is asking over toast and coffee.

“I thought I said that. Did I say that already?” He looks to Vala for help. For some reason Elizabeth’s interest was piqued when he mentioned Rodney came to his room last night.

“You said that twice now,” Vala replies as she tears a small tag off the coat and examines it.

“And Rodney is… sleeping?”

He narrows his eyes at her. What is really going on here? “Yes. I slept. He slept. There was sleeping. He’s fine. He’s sleeping it all off. What is the big interest here, Elizabeth?”

“I’m just asking.” She sips her coffee, eyes still fixed on him. “No need to be so defensive.”

“I’m not defensive.”

“Of course, it sounds defensive to say you aren’t defensive.” Vala points out.

John scowls at her until she decides to take her coat and leave the kitchen.

Approximately one hour and half a cantaloupe later, Carter and Daniel enter while Teyla is trying on her new coat. “I do not know about this… symbol.” She’s looking at the little SGC patch on the arm. “I am not a native of this planet.”

“You defend it whether you mean to or not,” Carter points out. “Teal’c wears it.”

“You’re a member of my team and I say you can wear that symbol.” John gives her a reassuring smile as he pours more coffee for himself. She looks curiously at him.

“You are different this morning.”

He sets his coffee down just a bit too forcefully and it laps over the edge onto the table. “What the hell is going on? You and Elizabeth? This has something to do with Rodney sleeping with me last night, right?”

Teyla looks slightly taken aback but stands her ground as always. “I do not know what you are talking about, John. I simply thought you look well rested this morning.”

“Oh.” He has the grace to look repentant at his outburst and she gives him a small smile.

“Well, if you must know, I got some sleep last night.”

“With Dr. McKay?” Daniel asks.

“What? No. Yes. I… We slept. No thanks to you and your caffeine stash, by the way.” Why is he even feeling a need to defend this? He concentrates on his coffee and the sports page in front of him and says no more.

The subject is reluctantly dropped by the others.

One hour more and one glass of orange juice later, McKay all but sleep-walks into the kitchen. John watches him search for a clean coffee mug, finally find one and then slouch in the chair across from him. John pours the last of the coffee for him.

Rodney drinks in silence and John finishes the entertainment section of the paper. “Where is everyone?”

“They went out for lunch.”

“Lunch?” He looks seriously put out that he’s missing a meal. “Fucking Atlantis time change.”

\---

Apparently a very important Hockey game is on TV and oddly everyone in SGC and SGA is interested in hockey. They all crowd into the living room together with popcorn and beer. Normally John would be thrilled to join in with beer, sports and good company but some niggling thing is at the back of his head, keeping him from enjoying it all.

Outside the air is chilled but the rain is gone for now. On the back deck he finds Col. Carter curled on the porch swing, a book in her lap. She looks up at the sound of his steps.

They share a companionable few minutes on the swing together, watching a flock of geese sail across the sky. “I have to ask you… about McKay,” she says.

John tries not to visibly stiffen at the words. “Okay…” Eyes fixed on the clouds.

“He’s different. I know, combat makes people change, he’s definitely changed. I just wonder if it’s for the better… he’s very… jumpy.” He says nothing. Of course McKay is jumpy. They all are hyper-alert to every little thing in their surroundings. It’s the only thing that has kept them alive these past years.

“I don’t know what I’m trying to say here. I just want you to know, the military thing… you and I both know it’s a cloak. We don’t fit into the average military mold. Not under the circumstances we work in.” She’s floundering and John glances over at her. He feels bad for making her struggle and offers a small smile.

“I’m not sleeping with Rodney if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Maybe you should be.”

Silence. With the exception of some small birds twittering in the tall grass below the deck.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying… With General O’Neill… Jack and I, we kept each other at a distance for so long, so many years. Because we thought the military rules applied. But they didn’t. What did we think? That we would be dismissed from duty for sleeping together? Both of us were too important to the program for them to do that. There might have been a reprimand, a stern talking to by the higher-ups but nothing more. Part of it was my fault. I was scared to give into it. I know he was just as stubborn about it.” She locks eyes with him and he’s more than uncomfortable with this entire topic. What force made his feet walk him out here a few minutes ago?

“You know, the only thing that waiting so long made us realize is that we wished we hadn’t… waited so long.”

John sighs, rubs his hands over his face. Why is his life so fucking weird? “Okay… A: I’m not gay. B: I’m not in love with Rodney McKay.”

More silence. Some small shell-wind-chimes hang in the doorway. They sway in the gentle breeze off the pond a few yards away. The birds are twittering again.

“Are you sure?”

He has no answer to that and she doesn’t push it, simply returns to her book.

\---

The Aston Martin hugs the curves of Interstate-25 like she’s been over them hundreds of times before and John doesn’t even need to keep his hands on the wheel. But he does, because this is not a Puddle Jumper and this is not Atlantis. This car is not reading his wants and commands.

There are many lanes on this particular stretch of highway and he swerves in and out of the little bit of traffic that is left at this early evening hour. His mind is racing about as fast as the car and the last thing he wants is to stop and be faced with the thoughts.

But he has to stop eventually, because he actually forgot about gas and the need to refuel. That little “Low Fuel!” light is flickering on and off and damn; the gasoline is well over $3.20 a gallon, for Premium!

What the fuck is going on with this world? He leaves for few years and look what happens.

Luckily he has a shiny gold card the clerk at the little gas station convenience shop accepts happily. He fills up the car and is back out on the roads within minutes.

Something else he forgot about, but quickly remembers, as he slows and pulls over to the side of the road just outside General Landry’s house. Speed limits.

Red-blue-white lights flash strobes into the street and he sits slumped in the front seat. Well… crap.

As if his day couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, the other house members wander out into the drive to see what the lightshow is about.

He breaks another rule and gets out of the car as the cop approaches. He’s a tall man and could probably take John if he really wanted to, but John has taken on entire hive ships of insane, life-sucking aliens. He thinks he can handle one Earth cop.

“Sir? Do you know how fast you were going?” The cop crosses his arms, keeps a few feet between them.

“Very fast?” John gives him his quirky smile.

The cop says nothing. He’s got a nose that appears to have been broken one too many times and a very interesting scar on his chin.

“Sheppard?” Mitchell is approaching. John sighs.

“Sir.” The cop holds a hand out, urging Mitchell to stay where he is and not get involved. Like he thinks John could just freak out at any second and shoot them all up. This amuses John and he snorts with a small laugh.

“I’m going to need to see some I.D., Sir.” The cop is taking out a ticket book and pen.

“Sure, whatever.” He turns to the car to get the insurance papers and rental stuff.

“Is this really necessary?” Elizabeth is approaching now. “He’s home now. He’s staying here with us. I’m sure he was just in a rush to get home and….” She trails off as the cop stares at her unflinchingly.

“Ma’am, I’m going to ask that you just stay over there.”

“He’s not a dangerous animal. He’s just an idiot,” Rodney contributes.

John finds the papers and turns around with a glare in Rodney’s direction. He gives John a smirk and points at his own eyes, then John’s. “Sunglasses at night? Nice, Corey Hart.”

“Fuck you, ‘Kay.” He’d forgotten about the shades, actually. The sun is almost down. There’s no need for them at all but he still blinks in the bit of dusky light left as he takes them off. The cop is glaring at him.

“Sir, maybe you need to come down to the station with me.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Elizabeth chimes in again. Mitchell is stepping in now, ignoring the sudden restraining hand of the cop on his arm.

“Sir, move away or I will write you up as well!”

“Officer, this man is from out of town. He’s just back from combat duty in the mid-east. He’s still a bit… culture shocked.”

The cop actually considers this as he looks at John’s military ID, registering now that he’s a Lt. Colonel in the U.S.A.F. John gives him a smile and still gets nothing in return.

“That really doesn’t excuse it. You’re an officer in the military. You of all people should be aware of the laws.”

“Look.” Mitchell again. “You’re absolutely right. It’s no excuse and he really should he accountable. I swear to you I will report this to the chain of command and he’ll be on KP for the next month straight.”

John rolls his eyes. The cop glares more.

“I was a Sergeant in the Marines, Sir. I know damned well officers don’t do KP.”

He’s writing the ticket up. Everyone watches. John glares at the ground, feeling like a dick but still amused by all of it.

Everything is wrapped up quickly and he’s left standing with an $80 speeding ticket. Good thing he has a lot of combat pay banked. Between gas and tickets… The entire group is watching him with varying degrees of irritation - except Rodney, who is beaming at him like this is the most amusing thing he’s witnessed in decades. All but Mitchell filter back towards the house. John leans against the car and looks over the ticket.

“What the HELL is your problem?” Mitchell is glaring, eyes flashing blue under his brows.

“It’s a ticket. No big deal.” John tosses it in the car and locks the door.

“ _Lt. Colonel_ Sheppard, you are getting reckless!” Mitchell is pissed. “Now maybe in the Pegasus Galaxy that’s what keeps you alive. But here we have to stay under the wire and I thought you knew that! Can you imagine if he had actually taken you in? Can you really see General Landry going down to bail you out? How long do you think that rank would stay on your collar? Fuck, John!” He spins around and paces in the gravel of the drive. “I don’t know what demons you’re dealing with in your head, but will you just THINK next time? We don’t need compromises like this! Particularly not at a General’s house! He’s trusted us to stay here and act like adults.” He storms off and John’s alone in the darkness until the automatic outside lights start to blink on.

\---

The whole incident is quickly brushed over. Though John can feel that Mitchell is still annoyed with him on some level, the rest of the house seems to have let it go as just another one of John’s quirky issues to be dealt with.

They are all in the living room with Chinese food in little boxed containers and chop-sticks. John’s an expert with chop-sticks; he picks up noodles and water chestnuts in one swoop. He pretends he’s not at all interested in Rodney beside him and his failed attempts to fish noodles out with one stick.

On the TV is a video Elizabeth has made of an interview she’s done with Daniel. It’s kind of dull at the start. About Ancients and languages, etc, etc. but then they get into things Dr. Jackson used to encounter in his first years with the SGC. Interesting stuff about Goa’uld and battles and then Elizabeth asks him about General O’Neill and what he was like back then.

The room settles, all eyes fixed on the image of Dr. Jackson on the TV, which is just a little weird because he’s actually in the same room with them watching as well. Daniel on the TV looks uneasy about this topic; he pushes his glasses up on his nose. It reminds John of Dr. Zelenka.

“Well… he was very sarcastic.” Daniel smiles at the memory. “I think in the beginning he was just along for the ride. That he never really expected we would keep beating the odds like we did. But then… years passed and we all kept living. We kept saving one another’s asses,” Daniel smiles. “He loved fishing. Was always trying to get us all to go along on fishing trips with him but we would rarely go… I don’t know why we wouldn’t,” he says softly, almost to himself. John glances away from the scene. It’s almost too personal to watch. Daniel is moving on though, onto other things General O’Neill liked. “Beer, flying, hockey… He told me once that he regretted not having joined Mensa.”

John freezes in mid sip of his own beer. Rodney is instantly staring at him. Neither speaks. It’s an eerie feeling that falls over him then. Very deliberately he sets aside the Chinese food and beer. He stands and walks out of the room. Hears Teyla’s concerned, “John?” and ignores it.

\---

The Aston Martin has been his new friend the past 8 hours. It’s cooled down from the recent drive and John sits on the hood, staring into the darkness of the long graveled drive. Moths and various other insects flutter in the outside lamps and a light breeze is blowing in another storm.

He misses Atlantis keenly and is wishing this entire rest and relaxation crap would just be over already. Because so far it’s been not much rest and very little relaxation.

Mensa. He took that damned test on a dare in his first year at the Air Force academy. He passed and ever since had been getting brochures and news letters from the Mensa people - until he finally made his way to another galaxy and then not even Mensa could track him down.

He had not expected to pass the test. He really hadn’t expected to pass it with flying colors and if he was being honest, it had scared the hell out of him when he found out. Because his life was not on course for being a brilliant genius. He didn’t want that responsibility. He wanted to fly planes, protect lives and wear cool uniforms.

Brilliant genius was extra work he didn’t want to deal with at the carefree age of 20. So, he’d stuffed it away and never told anyone about passing so spectacularly. Until McKay and that miserable mission with the whole brotherhood thing on Dagan.

It really didn’t bother him much that he hadn’t taken the genius track in life. Though occasionally he wondered how different life might have been if he did. He had a feeling he would have ended up exactly where Rodney was now, working for the government on top secret technology. Sometimes on missions he wishes he could help McKay more, but he can’t just put down his weapons, pick up a computer and work out mathematical equations when Wraith or some equally terrifying thing is 10 seconds away from killing him and everyone he loves. So he trusts and leaves it all to Rodney and ninety-nine percent of the time he comes through.

“So… how’s the emotional breakdown going for you?” McKay, standing a few feet away in the light of a lamp, hands clasped behind his back. He’s wearing the new coat from Landry and it flatters him. This concerns John, because he doesn’t know when he started noticing what clothes _flatter_ other men.

He forces himself to look away and up at the stars floating in the wisps of clouds above. “It seems to be right on schedule.”

“Hmm,” Rodney acknowledges, taking the last few steps to stand in front of John.

“You know, I don’t think I like it here anymore. Next time we have leave, this will not be my first vacation choice.”

“What?” Rodney looks from him to the stars above. “The Milky Way?”

John grins despite his current mood. Rodney drops his gaze from the stars and locks eyes with him. “Yeah, Rodney, the Milky Way. I thought I might try another galaxy next time. Any suggestions?”

“Well… I’m sure there must be some nicer ones out there.”

“Maybe you could find one for me.”

He smirks at John, “Oh yes. Because you know how I like to always give you everything you ask for.”

They’re in one another’s personal space; he can feel the warmth radiating from the other man. Uncertainty crosses Rodney’s face and then turns to determination all within a millisecond’s time. In that millisecond John thinks he knows what’s coming but it’s still unexpected and the adrenaline rush it creates is something so familiar that after only a moment’s hesitation he just goes for it and returns the kiss.

It’s different, but not in a strange way at all. Rodney’s persistent and completely controlling it, hands fisted in the collar of John’s own coat, pressing him back against the car. In his current state of emotional turbulence, John is more than willing to just let himself be kissed thoroughly.

What brings it all to a screeching halt is when he does start giving back, his own hands sliding up Rodney’s chest. Standing up from the slouch he had been in against the car. Pressing closer still to him and deepening the kiss.

Rodney makes a small frantic noise, drops his grip on John and steps away, eyes huge. He has that ‘Oh my God, what the fuck did I just do?’ look that John recognizes from just about every mission they’ve ever been on together.

That look triggers John’s own uncertainty and shock. He starts to speak Rodney’s name, moves to grab and hold him to the spot but the other man is backing off now, hand up to stop him.

“No, no, no…. just… don’t.” He turns and walks back to the house at a quick clip and John’s alone again in the darkness with the moths under the lamps and the stars.

That just went so well. He slides down to the gravel against the front grill of the car, head banging back against it. “Smooth, John,” he mumbles to himself. He is just not good at this whole gay thing. Luckily McKay seems to pretty much suck at it too, so he at least has that going for him.

\---

Quarter to midnight and no one is sleeping. Both groups have come together once more in the living room of the Landry home. The General himself made a brief appearance then disappeared upstairs to sleep.

Rodney is very deliberately sitting as far across the room from John as he can. They share a few awkward glances. At this point John is anything but happy to be here in this house still. He considers taking the car and leaving for the SGC. But there is only one night left and, at this late hour; little point in leaving. Besides, as badly as he wants to escape he can’t imagine leaving this group.

What he wants most is to get Rodney alone someplace so he can shake the hell out of him until some sort of sense is made of all this. His mind is racing and two of the blue pills and two more of the yellow ones are not even making a dent.

Carter and Jackson are talking about O’Neill again. “So you think he was trying to keep a distance from us all for a reason?” Jackson is asking.

“Well, maybe not for a reason he was consciously aware of but yeah, I think he was avoiding us these last few years. He never made a great effort to stay in contact.”

“But he was in D.C., he had other obligations,” Jackson again.

“I know, Daniel. But still… I called him, I sent mail. I tried to stay in contact and he rarely responded. It was only the last month that I had to physically fly out there myself to see him and make him respond.”

“Col. Carter is correct. I too tried many times to stay in communication with O’Neill,” Teal’c says, his voice strong and certain.

“You think he was unhappy, in D.C.?” Jackson asks Carter.

“I don’t know… he never talked a lot about his feelings. You know how he was.” The SG-1 team nods.

Cameron looks up from his beer; he’s sprawled in a giant overstuffed chair. “I think the last time I saw him was in passing at the SGC. I can’t even remember what we talked about. But I can’t imagine going from what my assignment is now to sitting behind a desk in Washington and dealing with non-stop bureaucracy 24 hours a day.”

“Well, he’s probably better off dead now.” John speaks up. He doesn’t know why he’s chosen this particular moment to say that but it’s a feeling he’s had since the funeral. Maybe the little blue and yellow pills are working after all.

The entire room is looking at him with stunned expressions. “John?” Elizabeth breaks the silence. “I’m sure you didn’t mean that.”

“Of course I meant it, Elizabeth. The man was broken off from his team, shipped across the country and sitting at a desk job for the past three years. How happy could he be? Even if it was voluntary. I think I would welcome death.”

Cameron is glaring at him now. “You know, Sheppard? I don’t know what your problem is, but you’ve been like trouble looking for a place to happen since you got here and right now you’re leaving a very bad impression.”

“Yeah, well guess what Mitchell, I’ve learned to stop giving a crap what people think about me. Because it’s a huge, dark, evil universe we live in. If I stopped to worry about how good an impression I’m making all the time I would have been killed years ago.” He takes in the rest of the room. Teal’c has one eyebrow raised, Jackson is exchanging looks with Carter. Elizabeth’s eyes are narrowed at him as if she’s trying to puzzle him out. Teyla and Vala are both watching with twin looks of interest.

Rodney… He’s unusually quiet. Arms crossed on his chest, eyes fixed on the wall behind John’s chair.

“Wake up, everyone! We’re all going back out there tomorrow and who knows which one of us will be dead next time around.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Sheppard!” Cameron is glaring in his direction. “I don’t know what your fucking problem is but you’ve been a loose cannon all weekend! Are you this wonderful to be around all the time?”

 

“Hey!” Rodney barks. He’s focused on Cameron and this is going to be one big explosion, John can feel it. “What the hell do you expect? You know I’d like to see you spend one month in the Pegasus Galaxy and not return back to Earth even just a little bit emotionally dented. I can guarantee you, Col. Mitchell, that one of us _will_ be dead next time we meet up! It’s a simple fact of logistics and the peril we live under every day.”

The room remains silent, thinking on this last statement. John watches Rodney who is now directly returning his gaze.

“Now come on… we’re all friends here.” Daniel steps in.

Elizabeth joins him. “This is very common behavior for a group to engage in before separation. We’re all just upset about having to leave the comfort of this house and one another’s company so we’re lashing out.”

Rodney snorts. John almost rolls his eyes but stops himself. “Thanks for making it all clear, Elizabeth,” John says.

“Please do not do this,” Teyla says softly.

Daniel sets his beer down on the coffee table and speaks up, “Look, we’ve lost someone very important to the Stargate program. A founding member. No matter how close or not each of us was to him, he was important. We all have to face the fact that the SGC is changing. New and more terrifying monsters are popping up all over. We’re all scared.”

“Life is short. Ours in particular are prone to be shorter than most,” Teyla says, her voice gentle as she looks between John and Cameron. “There is no point in this argument. I should think the one thing we have all learned from this time together is that life is too precious to leave it with regrets.”

Truth is, John doesn’t know why he’s picking this fight with Mitchell. But no amount of reasoning from Daniel or even Teyla will lift the dark fog hanging over him. He looks over to Rodney once more. There is something in his eyes that John can’t read, which is very unusual.

“What?” Rodney asks sharply.

John blinks at him, looks away, then back again. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Oh. Don’t even bring this up here.” He’s holding a warning finger up.

“Bring _what_ up? I was just looking at you! I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Hurt crosses Rodney’s face and is instantly covered by annoyance. He stands up and storms towards the door. Before he reaches it he turns a fierce look upon John. “Look, I’m not going to get into this now and ruin everything because you’ve taken the liberty of downing God knows how many of the 'prescription' drugs Beckett has pushed on you.”

His eyes leave John’s for a second to glance around the room at the other inhabitants, then return to lock with his. He has the defiant look on now, which always makes John slightly uneasy. “I love you. I don’t think I have ever been closer to another human being in my life… with the possible exception of my mother… but I don’t mean that in an Oedipal way.” He stops and scowls at how off topic he’s gotten. John is afraid to look at the rest of the room. He stays focused on Rodney.

“What I’m trying to say is, I would do anything for you, including giving my own life, which I think I’ve proven on many occasions already, and I will continue to love you no matter how much you act like a dick sometimes. What happened out there-” he waves a hand towards the door and presumably the driveway outside, “I freaked out, okay? It wasn’t you.” He holds John’s eyes for a moment longer until the air is so thick with tension John thinks he might choke, then turns and leaves the house. The front door clicks loudly on his departure.

Elizabeth is still looking at him with narrowed eyes. The entire group is looking at him. “Well,” Vala breaks the silence. “Figures things just start to get interesting the night before we all have to leave.”

“You know, Sheppard, I don’t know you all that well,” Cameron is saying; he too is standing up, preparing to leave the room, “I don’t know Teyla, or Elizabeth or even Dr. McKay that well. But what I do know is that all of you are incredible people and I would be more than willing to go into a suicide mission with any of you. And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same for anyone of my team. I know that General O’Neill saw the same potential in you or he would never have pushed you out to Atlantis. You have many people here who care for you. You’re not as alone as you may think. The entire fate of two galaxies does not rest on your shoulders alone.” He stares at John before finishing off the last of his beer. “Now, I’m done for the night. Sleep well.” He takes the stairs up to his room two at a time.

John feels like he’s kicked someone’s puppy. He slouches further into the couch and tries not to look too miserable.

“John… maybe you should go find Rodney,” Elizabeth whispers. She’s trying to give him a way out and he looks at her with a small appreciative smile as he stands.

“I uh… was just trying to keep things interesting,” he tries to explain to everyone. They all nod or smile slightly in understanding. Who among them hasn’t had a breakdown or two?  
\---

“Rodney, I know you’re out here.” It’s starting to rain, soaking slowly into the collar of his shirt and beading on the leather of his coat. He’s been up and down the driveway and around the house twice now. Wherever his lead scientist has gotten to it’s a very good hiding space and John can’t help but feel proud that obviously Rodney has learned his covert ops lessons well.

“I’m over _here_ ,” an annoyed voice says from just behind him. “You’ve only walked right past me three times now.”

John turns and peers into the darkness under the deck. “I have?”

“Obviously.” Deadpanned.

He ducks under the deck which is just high enough to allow a man to stand up straight.

“So,” John says, completely unsure how to start.

“So,” Rodney returns.

“I’m sorry,” John says, grateful for the darkness.

“Sorry for?” Rodney asks, a wary note in his voice.

He tries to think of what he’s sorry for. It’s not coming to him, so he settles on something that will cover all bases. “I’m sorry I’m a dick sometimes.”

There’s a snort in the darkness.

Something wet is dripping steadily down the back of his neck and he can only hope it’s rainwater. He decides to take a step closer to get out from under the drip and also move nearer to Rodney. There’s no objection from the other man and John takes that as a good sign. “Look, I’m not good at this… gay thing,” he continues.

“What? You think I am?”

“No. That isn’t what I’m saying! I… I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I’m just, so tired, you know?” It’s getting cold outside and he’s losing his nerve. What did he come out here for? He feels suddenly like he has something extremely vital and important he’s supposed to be conveying to McKay right now but it’s not coming out right at all. All the stress of the past years’ non-stop fight or flight situations, coupled with the frustrations of the past days, boils down into this one moment.

What’s a breakdown without a few manly tears anyway?

He does everything in his power to avoid the inevitable but it’s just not going to be stopped. His head drops into his hands and he thanks God that it’s dark and raining outside. He can’t even make out more than Rodney’s figure in the darkness, so it’s probably not too obvious, right? Besides, it’s not like he’s seriously sobbing or anything. But Rodney is suspiciously quiet, more so than before.

“Are you crying?”

John manages to get out a very pathetic sounding “No.”

“You are.” Rodney’s voice sounds shocked. “Look, I know I’m a brilliant and incredible catch but you don’t have to cry over me.”

John laughs despite the emotional collapse he’s in the middle of. He wipes roughly at his face, tries not to sniffle too loudly. “Fuck, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not. I would never have put up with you for the past three years if you were stupid,” Rodney jumps to his defense. Strong hands are pulling him closer. Foreheads pressed together, he wraps his arms around Rodney and he’s almost calm again.

“You tell one single person about the crying thing I’ll kill you,” John murmurs softly.

“What about Heightmeyer?” Rodney asks.

“I said not a single person, right?”

Silence.

“Rodney?”

“Yes, yes. I heard you.” There’s suddenly a warm mouth on his, which is _so_ much better than talking.

This time he hands the reins over to Rodney and just lets him lead, seeing as he freaked last time things started to move the other way. Besides, it’s not like John even knows what direction to take it, being that it’s his first experience with the whole guys-kissing-guys thing.

Within seconds it’s really not possible to keep a coherent thought in his head anyways because Rodney is very adept at taking control when he knows what he’s after and he’s also a very, very good kisser, which surprises John for some reason.

“Wait, wait.” He tries not to pant too obviously as he breaks away for air. “Can we not grope each other under the deck when there are perfectly warm rooms upstairs?”

A head is resting heavily against his shoulder. It’s comforting and sweet in a way John can’t define. “Whatever you want. But my room, because I’m NOT rolling around on an air mattress with you.”

\---

General Landry joins them for breakfast the next morning. It’s the smell of warm buttermilk pancakes and scrambled eggs with bacon that draws John down at last. Rodney’s bed turns out to be far more comfortable than an air mattress and John is wishing he had known that a few nights earlier.

They talked most of the night, did a lot of making out and groping like they were teenagers, and eventually fell asleep because sex in a General’s house, while said General was in the room just down the hall, was not as easy as they had thought it might be. Especially considering it would be the first time for either of them.

“Good morning, John.” Mitchell welcomes him with a sly grin that suggests he knows where John spent the night and he also forgives him for being a bastard last night.

 _This_ he had forgotten to consider before coming down for food. The kitchen had obviously quieted down when he entered. “Good morning,” he says to the table in general, with a small nod in Mitchell’s direction. Dr. Jackson and Col. Carter are exchanging knowing looks. He hopes his hair isn’t too messy and wishes he’d shaved before coming down.

Rodney is fixated on pancakes and coffee. It’s good to know things haven’t changed too much after last night.

“So… who slept last night?” General Landry asks. Teyla smiles at him, Teal’c raises a brow and Vala is openly examining John from across the table.

“I slept great.” Elizabeth smiles. Everyone agrees they slept equally as well last night and General Landry looks pleased.

“Excellent!” He’s serving pancakes and topping off coffee like he’s a waiter in a breakfast diner. John thinks that’s the coolest thing he’s ever seen a General do.

“Colonel Sheppard, I was wondering if I could ask for your assistance. General O’Neill has left his house to his ex-wife and she’s unable to get out here to go through it and put it up on the market. She’s agreed that we can have someone stay at the place for a week or so and pack things up. Unfortunately, SG-1 has some high priority missions I need them on just now but Colonel Carter suggested you might be just the right man to help with this.”

He’s shocked and it must show openly on his face. “Uh…” He glances at Elizabeth, who shrugs and takes another sip of her coffee.

“I’m sure we can delay the return to Atlantis for another week,” she says.

He looks over at Rodney next, who is staring at him. “What? I don’t care what you do with your extra time.”

“Well, I could use some help, I was going to ask…”

Rodney looks petulant. “Oh. Of course, I can pack boxes because I have nothing more important to do with my valuable time and brain cells.”

“Great.” He smiles at General Landry. “Dr. McKay and I would be glad to help out with that, Sir.”

Landry blinks under his heavy brows but says nothing more than, “Excellent. I’ll be sure to get a key to the place for you.” He settles down at the head of the table and smiles proudly at all of them. “So, who needs a lift back to the SGC? Shall I call in the copters?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Sir.” Cameron speaks up from the other side of the table. “We’ve all agreed we’re taking early retirement and moving in here with you.”

\--- Fin


End file.
